


No Rolling Back

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-08
Updated: 2010-12-08
Packaged: 2017-10-13 14:10:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ariadne likes seeing Eames jump when she touches him. Maybe then he'll notice the way she looks at him.</p><p>For the inception_kink prompt: <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/9327.html?thread=17226351#t17226351">She has to reach in one of the guy’s pockets to get something. She loves his reaction so she invents reasons to do it over and over again.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	No Rolling Back

The first time, they were two levels under and Eames needed another cartridge for his gun. Ariadne was closest, and she had slid beneath the barrier they were hiding behind. As he shot the machine gun at the militarized projections, she dug around into his pockets for the correct cartridge. She had leaned practically across his lap to reload his gun, and her hands had brushed against his stomach. She could feel the taut muscle beneath his shirt, and a blush had flared across her cheeks. "Steady, Ariadne," he had said, laughter in his voice. "You don't want to load the wrong gun, yeah?"

"Shut up," she had grumbled, handing it back to him. "I dream up infinite ammunition. No need to reload my guns."

"Women always seem to have that benefit, don't they?" he asked her with a sly wink.

Blushing furiously, Ariadne turned away to shoot her own weapon. She didn't miss the bulge in his pants but kept her smirk to herself. It was nice to know she affected him the same way he affected her. She fired her weapon with an accuracy that she knew impressed Eames, and she even took out the projection that was about to throw a grenade at them. "I think we'd better move. There's more of them coming."

"Good idea. Your aim's gotten excellent, by the way," he commented as they ran for new cover.

"Practice makes perfect," Ariadne chirped, running ahead of him with her gun out at her side. She knew he would be staring at her ass, and a quick look over her shoulder confirmed that. "Think Arthur got the safe open?" she called.

An explosion rocked through the area, which was more than answer enough. Eames caught up with her and grasped her arm firmly. "Time to get to the kick."

They put the banter aside and got back to work.

***

"What time is it?" Ariadne asked, leaning over Eames to dig into his pants pocket. He kept his pocket watch in his right front pocket, even though he had a watch on his left wrist. He made a sound of protest as she slid her hand into his pocket, her hand sliding over the watch. Her fingers brushed across something else that wasn't likely part of his thigh, and she had to suppress a grin. "Thanks," she said, pulling out the watch. She had deliberately left her own watch at home, just so she could do this.

The watch didn't work, however, its hands stuck in place. "It's for show, Ariadne," Eames said, taking it back from her. He thrust his left wrist in front of her so she could see the time. "Quarter to three," he told her unnecessarily.

Ariadne smiled sweetly at him. "Thanks. Just enough time to run through the level again before the new extractor arrives."

He rolled his eyes at her but didn't argue.

***

"My pen died," Ariadne called out from her workspace. She got up, dead pen in hand and her sketch pad in the other. She threw the pen away as she passed by the garbage bin near Arthur's desk. Touching any of his pens would bring down the Frown of Wrath, as she playfully called it. He wasn't overly fussy about his things, but Ariadne went through pens and pencils quickly for her sketches, and Arthur liked expensive ones that were hard to replace. Ariadne couldn't be bothered with what brand her pens were as long as they weren't so cheap that ballpoints ripped through the paper. She liked gel pens, since writing with them didn't disturb the flow of her sketching.

Eames was on the phone with someone, probably Yusuf based on the notes he had in front of him. He shot her an absent smile as she approached him, and went back to his conversation. She smiled widely when she saw the pen tucked in his shirt pocket, and wanted to laugh when she saw it was a Precise pen in black ink. Ariadne slid her hand down his chest until she could grasp the pen. He jerked at the contact, then glowered at her as she beamed at him.

Extra fine point, even better. "Thank you," she chirped, then headed back for her workspace to finish the sketch.

***

They were one level down, in an open air market trailing behind the subject. The subject was confused as he talked with their new extractor, and Ariadne couldn't help but sigh. "Why do I get the feeling we're about to have to run?"

"It's a good thing Arthur can double as an extractor by now," Eames said darkly. "Though why I'm here, I have no idea. The plan didn't call for a forger at all."

Ariadne slid a hand into Eames' back pocket, her fingers following the curve of his rear. Eames was startled at the contact and turned to stare at her incredulously. "I'm not exactly needed here either, but I suppose we just have to look natural." She smiled up at Eames and winked. "That way, he won't know we're not his projections, right?"

"Ariadne..." he began.

There was shouting up ahead, and Ariadne sighed. "Get ready to run," she said. "This guy is hopeless."

"Coming from you, that's rich," Eames replied, earlier discomfort forgotten. "You find the good in everyone, even that last loser we worked with."

"Hey, I'm small but not slow." She grinned at him just as the projections all around them started to turn and look suspiciously at everyone in the market. "Need me to prove it?" she asked Eames in a challenging tone of voice.

"I don't know what you're up to," he began in a warning tone of voice.

A shot rang out, and their extractor crumpled to the ground, a bullet hole in the center of his forehead. It was a good thing it wasn't his dream that they were in. The move served to scatter everyone in the market, and Ariadne grabbed Eames's hand so they could take off at a run. "Time to do what you do best!"

When Ariadne turned to look at Eames, his face was someone else's and he was shouting for the subject. They caught up with him, and Ariadne thought she saw Arthur up on the rooftop. He would be battling projections soon enough, so Eames was going to have to get everything out of the subject himself.

Well, not entirely by himself. Ariadne slipped into the role of girlfriend easily enough, her hands sliding down Eames' arm in a gentle caress when whey were in the subject's vacation home and away from the market. Eames pulled her onto his lap, one of his hands across her thighs in a possessive gesture. He and the subject talked about their drug trade, and Ariadne did her best vapid coke addict impression. She managed to slip her hand down his jacket pocket, pretending to look for more cocaine, and Eames merely shifted his hand from her lap to her hip. His fingers curled around it, fingertips pressing slightly harder. Ariadne shivered at the contact and curled up around him. The subject said something rude and laughed, especially when Ariadne slid her hand into Eames' shirt to touch the bare skin of his chest.

With this kind of show, the subject revealed all of his contact names easily enough, as well as a few meeting locations. It was more than what they had promised the DEA agent that had hired them, so Ariadne knew they would get the payout without any problems.

She let out a soft gasp when he brushed his teeth against her neck, then pushed her roughly off of his lap. "We'd better go. It's best if no one knows I was here."

"Of course, uncle," the subject said, shaking his hand. "And you have someone to break in properly," the subject added with a leer.

Ariadne was nearly shaking with need when they came up out of the dream. Eames was glaring at the extractor, who was stuttering and coming up with excuses. She helped Arthur coil the lines of the PASIV along with their current lookout. "Did we get it?" he asked in a low tone of voice, not interrupting Eames' tirade.

"More than we thought we would," she told Arthur.

He nodded with a slight smile and packed up the PASIV. "I'll meet you at the prearranged spot," he said, giving her arm a gentle pat. "Five hours ought to leave you enough time alone with him, don't you think?" he asked with an amused smile.

"What are you talking about?"

"I've seen the way you look at him," Arthur replied easily, eyes sparking with mischief. "I won't even say anything if you're late."

Ariadne managed to keep her jaw from dropping as he left the subject's vacation home. She had thought she was being subtle, too. Then again, it was Arthur's job to know everything about everybody. She grasped hold of Eames' arm, keeping him from punching the extractor in the face. "We have to go," she insisted. "There's not enough time for this."

The extractor left beneath Eames' glare, and Ariadne led him out of the house. They wound up walking through the streets, even winding up in an open air market that seemed very similar to the one in the subject's dreams. "Well, that extractor was a bust," she said glumly. "I didn't think we were expecting too much."

"What was that all about in the dream?" he asked in low tones, making sure no one overheard them. He was steering them away from the crowds. "The touching, I mean."

Ariadne blinked up at him. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was improvising. It seemed to work at the time."

"And all those other times, then?"

She gave up pretending that she didn't know what he was talking about. "You can't blame me for that, can you?" He glowered at her. "What?"

Eames spun her around so that she crashed into the wall of a building. He was crowding her space, effectively pinning her to the wall, his arms on either side of her. "Do you think it's a game?" he hissed.

Ariadne probably shouldn't have felt as turned on as she did, but couldn't help it. She ran her hands along his chest, watching as his breath hitched slightly. "You never acted like you noticed me," she whispered, looking at him. "I want you to notice me."

He kissed her roughly, tongue pushing into her unresisting mouth. He moved one hand to cradle the back of her head, fingers sliding through her hair. Ariadne had her hands flat against his chest, then slowly moved them down until they were resting lightly against his waist. He had one knee between her legs, and he jerked slightly against her when she slid her hands into his back pockets the way she had in the dream. "This better not be a dream," he growled against her mouth.

"Need to check your totem?" she asked, breaking the kiss to press her mouth against his neck.

"My hotel's nearby," Eames said, voice thick with desire.

"Arthur won't need us for about five hours. Is that enough time?" Ariadne asked, not even trying to sound innocent or cover up her eagerness.

"Don't tell me you plotted this with that stick in the mud," he grumbled, his hands falling to her hips. He slid his fingers inside the waistband of her pants, brushing against the soft skin there. He could feel his heart quicken at her sharp intake of breath, at the way she looked up at him as if she wanted to rip his clothes off with her teeth.

"Let's just say the only one that didn't see the way I look at you is you."

Eames laughed self deprecatingly as he shook his head. "Best make up for lost time, then."

"My thoughts exactly," Ariadne told him, a wide grin on her face.

They were a half hour late meeting up with Arthur.

The End.


End file.
